I Am Not Bella Swan
by Helvetica Black
Summary: When real-Bella unwittingly enters the Twilight world, she decides that she will never be like Twilight-Bella. So she doesn't ask about the beautiful strangers in the cafeteria, doesn't attend that Biology class, and she plans to never EVER fall for Edward Cullen. However, there are some things about Twilight that even Stephenie Meyer didn't know...
1. Prologue

For seven years now, it had been my dream to strangle Stephenie Meyer in her sleep. Ever since her first Twilight book came out when I was ten, since the day it inadvertently ruined any hope I had in having a normal life, I'd thought it would be nice — for me, at least — if Stephenie just disappeared. Or at least unwritten the hex that was her book. You have to understand, my life began to be hugely, inexplicably, _excruciatingly_ painful the very moment Dianne Whittaker bought her copy of Twilight from The Emerald City Bookstore (she'd been the first girl in my school to get a copy of the book, I discovered years later). The second Dianne phoned her friends about this "totally fab" book ("fab" had been a word back then), my fate was sealed. I was then bound to live my life in misery. Destined to be a joke. Fated to live in constant, day-to-day humiliation and loneliness.

All because Stephenie Meyer decided to model Twilight's heroine after me.

Because it was the only thing that made sense: she somehow knew me, and she thought that _hey, that kid is totally normal, I should mess her up!_ She came up with Twilight and sold it and, surprise, my smooth-sailing life got hairy. Hooray for her. Boo for me. If she had any idea how hellish my life got because of her book of evil, she'd probably be dancing in the moonlight. She hated me that much, I just knew it. She had to, or why else would she have written Twilight?

But I'm probably going too fast. Maybe I should back up. Maybe I should explain how Twilight ruined my life in the first place.

You see, I'm Bella Swan.

I'm not kidding — I'm really Bella Swan. My name's really Isabella Marie Swan. My dad's Charlie Swan, my mom's Renee Dwyer. They're divorced like I know you're thinking, and Mom's husband now is a nice guy named Phil. Charlie lives in — you guessed it — Forks, Washington.

Does any of it sound familiar to you? It should. I mean, it's only the background of the "best-selling" Twilight Saga's heroine: Isabella Marie Swan.

Only thing is, I am not her.


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole

People always gave me crap for it. Especially the girls. I think they were jealous of Twilight Bella Swan for having her fairy tale ending, and they took it out on Real Bella Swan instead. Poor me. Since that book came out seven years ago ( I was ten at the time), people made it their career to make my life a living hell. The really bad crap started with the teenagers in school. I barely even hit twelve when it was decided that Twilight was the "in" thing. So naturally, the girls in school all had copies of it quicker than I could blink. By that time, New Moon (the second book) was already out.

Oh, the _torture_. No twelve-year-old deserved what I'd gone through.

In a span of three days after the unanimous decision was made (by evil tweens) that Twilight and New Moon were "the best books, like, ever!", I'd been tripped by eleven female feet, bathed in thirteen different drinks (one was even hot chocolate), and had five pieces of chewed-up gum flicked at my hair. Kids kept asking me if I saw Edward Cullen, kept saying that I should jump off a cliff if I wanted to see Edward Cullen, kept making jokes about being a leech-lover (when vampires obviously weren't real). I pretty much turned into the school joke.

It went on for five more years.

I didn't deal with this alone as a kid, though. I had a friend. Well, _friends_, really, but never more than one at the same time. They kind of come and go, like the seasons, only way more frequent. I had a new friend every month or so, and trust me, it's not as glamorous as it sounds.

Let me explain.

There's always one girl or boy in class who gets off on the idea of being a hero. They waltz into your pathetic life wanting to save you, hoping that they can save you. They spend a few days getting to know you, just to show you (and everyone else) how magnanimous they are. I even figured out the hero schedule. Day one is the "let me insert myself into your messed-up life" day. Day two is the "how about we do some things you enjoy doing" day. That could last for two days, but usually it's just one. Then the next step is, obviously, the "they can't hurt you if you don't let them" day. They try to figure you out, try to fix you, try to reintegrate you into society, which, since you're apparently damaged beyond repair, they fail at doing. Then the last stage, usually on the fourth or fifth day, is the "let me slowly fade out of your complicated life" day.

There's nothing like having friends who leave because they think you're too much trouble. My self-esteem fell down the drain the fifth day after I met my first _hero_.

Having hero friends ruined the concept of friendship for me. With friends who couldn't even stick around for a week, it's obvious why. So when high school came around, I had learned to deal with it alone, laughed with the others when they laughed at me, glared at the guys who gave me crap. It wasn't my fault my name and my life were almost identical to Twilight Bella's, and I was sick of people treating me like it was. Life didn't get better, because everyone already knew me as the school joke, but at least it didn't get worse. I would've gone nuts if it did. And by the time I made it through freshman year, I made it my life goal to assassinate Stephenie Meyer.

Everything was fine and dandy — well, crappy really, but the normal crappy — until I met Elijah Stearns. Then my life was essentially ruined. But that's a story for another time.

I was on a plane to Forks, Washington, trying to breathe through my nose as the metal bird rocked up and down. _Turbulence_, the attendant called it, and I almost screamed at her. Turbulence, my butt. More like _instant heart attack._

I almost kissed the ground the moment I got off that plane.

I felt more than saw my father's eyes on me. It filled me with an eerie sense of dread, like I was about to be dressed down by him for spending too much money on a pedicure or something. Probably had something to do with the fact that I was guilty. Not because of overspending, but because of something infinitely worse.

Had Renee told him what happened? I hoped not. I'd begged her to keep her mouth shut about it, said that I wanted to tell Charlie myself, but knowing Renee...

The mental vault where she kept secrets wasn't exactly Fort Knox.

The ride to Charlie's house was quiet. Neither of us were much for words, and everything that normal dads talked about, weren't Charlie's thing. The last time we talked before my flight to Forks was on the phone. I was begging him to let me move in with him, snot running down my nose, tears smeared all over my eyes.

But that's neither here nor there.

The moment we parked at the driveway, photographers and reporters came out of their hiding spots, ambushing Charlie's cruiser. Charlie frowned — a regular expression on his face, it seemed like — and stepped out of the car, shooing the Twilight enthusiasts as he did so. For a second I thought he was going to call for backup (wouldn't have been weird since he was Chief of Police in Forks, which I'm sure you've figured out as well), but instead he just glared at the nosy people and swatted his burly arms at them as if they were flies. He made his way to the trunk swearing like a sailor.

Of _course_. Bella Swan wasn't the only character in Twilight who existed in real life. Charlie must have had a terrible life since the book, too. He was probably way past sicing his officers on the reporters. There was no outrage in him anymore, just resigned annoyance.

I huddled into my jacket (which was nowhere near warm enough) and listened to the noises outside. The reporters were practically screaming questions at Charlie.

"Is this the beginning of real-life Twilight, Chief Swan!"

"When is Bella starting school!"

"Where's the old Chevrolet truck!"

Charlie slammed the trunk shut and spun on his heels to face the reporters. "There is no fucking truck, no Twilight-shit, and it's none of your fucking business when my daughter starts school! Now back the fuck off before I pull out my gun and start shooting!"

A laugh stumbled out of my mouth before I can stop it. I'd never seen Charlie so angry before. I'd automatically assumed he'd handle the situation with the same calm aplomb Renee always had.

"Is it true that Bella was caught having a romantic affair with her biology teacher!" One reporter yelled.

The laughter died on my lips and I shriveled into myself.

Everyone fell quiet. Even the cameras stopped their incessant flashing. I guess they were eager to hear my father's answer the question. The question hung in the air like the cold that permeated my skin.

With his back to the window I was peeking through, Charlie growled, "Who said that?"

He knew. He didn't even sound surprised. That made me want to dig a hole through the leather seat and hide forever.

* * *

><p>We finally managed to walk the walk of shame from the cruiser to the house. Charlie had to call backup though. The reporters were just way too pushy.<p>

Charlie's spectacular silence was quite a change from Renee's incessant chatter. The silence almost made me feel guilty enough to tell him what happened in Phoenix, everything that happened, but then I remembered that he probably already knew. So I decided to play the silent game with him.

He was the one who broke the ice. "So... your old teacher, huh?"

I groaned. My mother really needed some duct tape over her mouth. "_Dad_."

Excessive hand gestures from him. "No, no, I'm not about to grill you on it like your mom did. God knows how much of a harpy she can be. I just want to ask you something."

I shrugged, gesturing for him to ask away. It's not like he wasn't already thinking the worst of me.

"Were you... Did he _force_ you?"

I frowned, incredulous. Everyone in Phoenix thought I'd basically whored myself into a relationship with the golden Mr. Stearns, even my own mother, and here Charlie was, asking me if I'd been _forced_ into it? Elijah didn't force me into anything, but just the fact that my dad was so ready to defend when my mom wasn't...

It made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

I wanted to lie to Charlie and tell him that I was still his innocent little girl and that the bad man Mr. Stearns had his wicked way with me, but I told him the truth instead. If Charlie believed I'd been _forced_, he won't sleep until Elijah Stearns was either dead or behind bars, and I didn't want that. All I really wanted was to get the whole issue over with. And maybe move back to Phoenix when people finally got over the "forbidden teacher-student romance" thing. Elijah wasn't even teaching in my school anymore when we started dating.

"No," I muttered. "No, I wasn't forced. It was completely mutual."

He sighed as if disappointed, and pulled his hand away from his gun holster. "Right. Sure. Do you remember where your room—"

"I remember."

"Right." He fidgeted awkwardly, the same way I wanted to, and added, "I have to go back to work. You make yourself comfortable."

I nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

My old bedroom was just how I remembered it. Albeit covered in dust. I ran to the old bed and threw myself on it, thinking — hoping — that this was far enough. Elijah told me, _begged_ me, to go as far as I can. To leave all the dirty work to him. I hoped that Forks, Washington was far away enough for him.

The moment my head hit the pillow, I dreamed. It was a strange one about Edward Cullen. Weirdly enough, Edward wasn't Robert Pattinson. This Edwad looked more... _more_. Well, for starters, he was prettier than Rob. Nicer jaw. Fuller lips. Longer eyelashes. Better cheekbones. He was a different person and looked very different, and I shouldn't have recognized him, but I just knew who he was for some reason. I knew he was Edward Cullen as certainly as I knew that my name was Bella Swan. He was staring at me with tortured, soulful topaz eyes, as if beckoning for me to approach, as if he'd die if I didn't touch him. He reached out, and I dumbly took his cold hand. Before I knew it I was alone, falling, spiraling down the rabbit hole — a rabbit hole that led right back to Forks.

I woke up with a strangled gasp.

The air around me felt different somehow, like it was charged with something electrical. I blamed the stupid dream.

Charlie's voice came from downstairs. "Bells! Come here, there's something I want to show you."

I thought he already left for work?

How long had I been asleep?

I glanced at the clock and saw that I'd only been asleep for three minutes. What on earth?

I groggily trudged down the stairs and almost dropped right back into unconsciousness when I saw exactly what it was that he wanted to "show" me. Charlie stood by the driveway, his cruiser right where we'd left it, and right next to him was a vaguely familiar vehicle.

It was a truck. _The_ truck.

The freaking rusty old Twilight truck!

* * *

><p><strong>AN: It's starting. Tell me what you think in your reviews!**


	3. We Are All Mad Here

This can't be happening.

"What is _this_?" I asked, waiting for the punch line. The look on my face must have been a sight to see, because Charlie's eyes bugged out of their sockets when he saw my face.

He stared at me, looked confused. "You don't like it?"

Something about the Twilight truck and the look on Charlie's face bugged me. There was this nagging little voice inside my head that said something was wrong. Something. I couldn't figure out what it was, though, so I just dismissed it as nerves. Wouldn't have been too surprising if that's exactly what it was.

"It's not _that_," I replied, shook my head. "I'm just surprised is all. So what's the Twilight truck doing parked next to your car? Did you buy it?"

"Twilight truck?"

I raised my eyebrows. "You know," I gestured to the red-orange truck. "_That_ truck. The Twilight truck. You get the joke?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Charlie muttered awkwardly, as if he didn't really care or know about the book reference. "It's kind of a gift," he continued. "Mine, for you. I bought it from Billy Black. You remember Billy?"

I nodded absently. Billy Black was Jacob Black's dad. Of _course_ I knew him. It was impossible for me to _not_ know something if it's Twilight-related. Everyone back at Phoenix practically screamed every line of the Twilight saga at me, chanting the lines as if they were retarded mantras. To say that I could recite Jacob Black's family tree with my eyes closed, wouldn't have been much of an exaggeration. After all, people had been constantly pumping my brain with Twilight stuff since I was ten.

Hold on. There was something wrong with that stream of thoughts. Did I just think "_Twilight stuff"?_

This was the real world! There was no Billy Black in the real world! At least, not around Forks.

Right?

Right. So that meant that Charlie was kidding about Billy Black. I didn't know my own father to have such a sick sense of humor, but then I hadn't really spent that much time with him this past year, in person or otherwise. The Breaking Dawn II film hype kind of left its scars and _traumatized_ me. And also, on a totally different note, Elijah happened.

I killed that thought right then. There was no point in thinking about Elijah Stearns. No point at all.

Maybe the Breaking Dawn II hype traumatized Charlie enough to go nuts and play a cruel joke on his daughter.

Charlie didn't look like he was about to crack up or burst into laughter though. If anything, he looked serious enough to be in a funeral. So was he not joking about Billy?

I didn't know why I laughed. The whole situation was just suddenly so hilarious. "Are you saying that there's seriously a real Billy Black? And you really bought the truck from him?" I asked. "That's so messed up on so many levels, I don't even know where to start."

Charlie looked legitimately disturbed by my sudden peals of laughter. "A _real _Billy Black? Is there a fake one?"

"Not _fake_ so much as _fictional_, Dad. Billy Black's also a character from the Twilight books."

He looked lost for a second. ". . . Oh. Well, you know I don't read as much as I ought to, Bells." He gave me a small smile, one that told me he had no idea what I was talking about. "The bookworm gene skipped my generation."

Well, I guess just because people constantly pestered him about Twilight didn't mean he'd actually inflict the books on himself. _If you can't beat 'em, leave 'em._ That was just so classically _Charlie._

So it seemed there was a real-Billy. Was there a Jacob Black too? That was impossible, right? If there was a real-Jacob, I'd have heard about him years ago. Twi-hards were relentless in their research. It sure didn't take them more than a month to find out about me and my family. And it only took little more than a day after that for the media to start camping outside our house and following me around wherever I went, like a legion of stalker-Edwards, only infinitely more annoying with all the question-screaming and camera flashes:

_"Why did you quit ballet!" Flash. _

_Flash. Flash, flash. "When are you going to Forks to live with Charlie!"_

_"Edward or Jacob!" FlashFlashFlash._

_"ARE YOU WAITING FOR EDWARD CULLEN!" FLASHFLASHFLASHFLASH! FLASH!_

All that, daily, before I even turned thirteen. Imagine the agony.

There was even a time after the Eclipse movie came out that they made me a Twitter account (I already had one before then, but it wasn't anything stupidly obvious like BellaSwan or MrsCullen), and they stalked me and tweeted everything I did. Everything. It was like, "I farted. ❤" or "I ate a Skittle! #TasteTheRainbow #food" or "I can't wait to meet Edward Cullen, I hope he's real too~ ❤❤❤" and other such nonsense. It was mortifying.

I didn't know if there was a real-Jacob, but if there'd been a real-Edward, the whole thing would just be freaky. I mean, what were the chances? Fortunately, I knew there wasn't a real-Edward. I did my research, too. Although, there were times I wished that real-Edward did exist. Then the guy would share half of the suffocating attention I'd had to live with for years. Maybe even _more_ than half, since Twi-hards were mostly "Team: Edward". Or maybe having a real-Edward would've made things worse for me, I don't know. But it would have been nice to have someone else live through that crap too.

I smiled to myself. Sometimes my S_chadenfreude_ surprised even me.

I turned my attention to the hunk of metal that was pretending to be a truck. It was huge, old, and reddish orange. My dad bought me an old, red, Twilighty truck. Jesus. At any other day (or universe) I probably would have appreciated the gesture, but at the moment I was too busy freaking out.

"I didn't know if you'd want a truck," Charlie quickly amended, as if his gift was herpes and not a truck, "But I figured you'd at least want to drive yourself to school. I mean, I guess I could take it back to Billy's if you don't want it..."

I shook my head. "Of course I want it, Dad. It's... nice of you to buy it. Thanks," I muttered. I was grateful for the truck, I really was. But did it have to be this truck? "It's just... I thought you said there'd be no Twilight stuff."

"Twilight stuff?" he asked, his eyebrows scrunched up.

"You know." I gestured to the truck. "The Twilight saga. Bella Swan, Charlie Swan, old Chevy truck, the Cullens, vampires, werewolves... the whole shebang. I thought you wouldn't have any of that crap?"

_Charlie slammed the trunk shut and spun on his heels to face the reporters. "There is **no fucking truck**, no Twilight-shit, and it's none of your fucking business when my daughter starts school! Now back the fuck off before I pull out my gun and start shooting!"_

Whatever happened to "_no fucking truck_"?

"Bella," Charlie began, "There are books with our names on it? And the Cullens' too?"

Suddenly, it clicked. That nagging little whisper in my head became a big booming scream. _Wrong! Wrong!_ I finally figured out what was wrong though. The lack of annoyance on Charlie's face. The sudden lack of awkwardness as if he hadn't just been asking me about Elijah Stearns just a few minutes ago. The truck. Billy Black. And to top it all off, Charlie's cluelessness when I mentioned Twilight.

My dad was crazy.

He honestly believed that we were in Twilight.

I wanted to go home _now_. To Phoenix. A crazy dad was more than what I'd planned on handling when I got to Forks. I really wanted to go back to my old life, back to when I was just a normal girl and people didn't keep calling me "whore" or "slut" when they thought I wasn't listening. Back to when my own mother believed in me. Back to being unnoticed. Back to Elijah.

Thinking his name made me pause. No, I wouldn't go back to Elijah. Just the thought of him made me hurt all over.

I would _never_ return to him, "crazy dad" issues or not. After all, he was the one who begged me to leave.

I should at least respect the wishes of the man I love.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know it's a pretty short chapter, but I feel like this is how this specific part should end. Also, you must be wondering about Elijah Stearns. Don't worry, I won't let you wonder about him for very long. Milking the suspense doesn't really work out well in most cases.**

**Ciao.**


	4. Odile

By the time Charlie really left for work, my mind was already reeling.

My own father was delusional, it seemed like. And I'd be living alone with him. What was going to happen to me?

I buried my face on my pillow and groaned. _Twilight_. My dad thought we were Twilight characters. Freaking Twilight! Just how many times will that book ruin my life before it's satisfied?

My attention turned to the unopened boxes. I knew I should open them. I knew that I couldn't live my life in the past, refuse to unpack my belongings and pretend like this wasn't happening. I was in Forks, and I wasn't leaving anytime soon. My dad had a few screw loose, but that didn't mean I could just up and fly back to Arizona. Plane tickets weren't free, and money didn't grow on trees.

Letting out a sigh of annoyance, I reached for my laptop to check the date. It was a weird habit of mine to forget what date it was. For some reason, dates never really stuck in my head. I just didn't remember events in terms of dates.

**1:45 PM | 01/17/2005**

I felt my heart skip a beat. What the heck? 2005? When did my laptop get a _computer virus_? Was this some kind of sick joke that Fate wanted to pull on me? Was _nothing_ around me going to be normal?

I jolted out of bed and decided to unpack my boxes. That was safe, right? I mean, it wasn't like anything could go wrong with unpacking.

* * *

><p>I felt better when everything was unpacked. I felt relaxed. Calm. Like I'd undergone some ritual that made me feel like I was finally beginning to move on from Phoenix.<p>

Maybe that was just because I saw Elijah's letter. Naturally, I cried when I saw it, then tried to read it through teary eyes for the millionth time. Apparently, crying does make people feel better.

I sent my laptop a random glare when I remembered its presence. I didn't know anyone in town who knew how to fix it. Now that I think about it, did they even _have_ computers here? I didn't want to think about something so snooty and rude, but Forks wasn't exactly the booming metropolis that Phoenix was, and they didn't have much here.

I decided I'll still use my laptop anyway, at least until I found a technician. Besides, it still worked normally, so I didn't really need to have it fixed. And for my weird date-checking quirk, I guess I'll just have to get a calendar (and mark it everyday, or else it's useless).

I thought of sending my mother an email, then thought better of it. I knew she'd be worried sick about me, but I just can't... _handle_ her right now. She reminded me of too many painful things.

I emailed Elijah instead.

* * *

><p><strong>To: estearns_me. com<strong>

**From: odile_me. com**

**Subject: _Forks_**

**Message: _Arrived safely. Miss you always. B_**

* * *

><p>Almost instantly after I clicked on "Send," the email bounced back.<p>

**_Sorry, we were unable to deliver your message. The address estearns does not exist._**

"What?" I whispered as I read the failure notice twice. How could his email address not exist? There were a lot of people he contacted using that address — family and colleagues and other professional contacts. Why would he suddenly deactivate his account?

Was he_ that_ serious when he said he didn't want me to contact him until the whole issue had blown over?

All of a sudden, I wished I shared my dad's delusions. I wished I believed I was in the Twilight world too. It sure seemed easy enough to do it now that I was in Forks. Twilight Bella had it easy. And she got her happy ending, too. It wasn't fair that she was surrounded by people who loved her when all I got was an emotionally screwed-up mother and a delusional father, and a man who was all too willing to get rid of me.

I waited for the tears to come — because this pain had to be enough to make me cry, right? But they didn't come. My eyes became a little moist, but the tears never spilled.

Huh. It seemed I can't make myself cry. _I guess my dream to be an actress is over,_ I thought sarcastically.

**7:45 PM | 01/17/2005**

I heard Charlie's cruiser come up the driveway, heard tires rolling through the stones and the gravel. I thought about going downstairs to greet him, but I was too drained. Drained from all the unpacking and the crying and the _not_ crying. The stark glare of the laptop screen made me remember something, from the New Moon movie, and in a random bout of insanity, I decided to act on that memory.

It was Alice Cullen's email address.

* * *

><p><strong>To: a. cullen_me. com<strong>

**From: odile_me. com**

**Subject: _On pixies and vampires_**

**Message: _Good evening, Alice Cullen. Tell Edward to skip his Biology class tomorrow. He'll be meeting his singer then._**

* * *

><p>I felt like an idiot after clicking on "Send." Of course, I knew that Alice Cullen didn't exist. None of the Cullens existed in real life. I knew that the email would bounce back, just like the one I sent Elijah.<p>

**Sent!**

I laughed real hard when my email got sent. Huh. Some random girl apparently took up the email address Alice had in the movie (it wasn't mentioned in any of the books).

Some Twi-hards just really took it to the next level.

I folded my laptop and decided to vacuum-clean my room. The years' worth of dust that accumulated on every flat surface surely wasn't good for my lungs. It was a miracle I didn't have an asthma attack when I napped on my bed.

However, before I got to stand up, my laptop made a very loud "ding."

Curious, I opened it to see who emailed me. I didn't know that many people. And I didn't have friends. Not real ones, at least. I already explained that.

The world seemed to stop when I saw who it was from.

* * *

><p><strong>To: odile_me. com<strong>

**From: a. cullen_me. com**

**Subject: None**

**Message: _Who are you, and where did you get this email address? Are you my sire? And how do you know that Edward will meet his singer tomorrow? Do you have a gift too?_**

* * *

><p>I couldn't help it. I laughed. Hysterically. This Twi-hard really was into this "I'm Alice" thing. It's beginning to feel like one of those role plays on fan fiction. Meg Rogers — my third "friend" — introduced me to Twilight fan fiction. It was like stepping into a multidimensional blender. And that's <em>not<em> including the crossovers. Human minds can make up the weirdest and silliest things.

"Bells?" I heard Charlie say with a knock on my door. "Are you alright?"

"It's... I'm fine, Dad. It's just this funny article I'm reading online. Door's unlocked, by the way."

He opened the door and peeked in. "Have you... wow. I see you're done unpacking. Have you had dinner yet?"

Nope. "Yup. Brought some granola bars from home," I lied easily, trying not to take too seriously the wince that he made when I said _home. _But really, did he expect me to call Forks my home? After just a few hours of living here? Seriously? "I had two bars," I added helpfully.

"Oh," he said with an awkward smile. "Right. I was going to pick you up so we can grab a bite at Billy's, but you've already eaten, so... I should go ahead."

"Go," I said indulgently. "Knock yourself out. Just don't drink and drive," I added as a warning. Delusional or not, he was still my dad. I loved him. I didn't want him to die in a car accident because of drunk driving.

He huffed. "I'm a cop, Bells. I don't drink and drive."

"Right," I grinned. "Top cop and all that. Just don't leave me orphaned."

He rolled his eyes. "You have Renee. You won't be orphaned."

I cringed. He had _no idea_.

He softly shut the door and I listened. After a few minutes of him walking around downstairs, I heard him close the front door, get in his car and drive away. I turned my attention back to the email. **a. cullen_me. com ** seemed wary enough, but also excited enough to seem like the real Alice.

I chuckled at that. As if there was a _real_ Alice.

I typed back an appropriate reply:

* * *

><p><strong>To: a. cullen_me. com<strong>

**From: odile_me. com**

**Subject: _Refer to the email you sent me._**

**Message: _I'm nobody. Somewhere. I'm not. I just do. I don't._**

* * *

><p>That seemed cryptic enough. Let's see what Alice Cullen will do when faced with the unknown.<p>

Okay, I'll confess — I didn't like Alice Cullen's character. Never did. She was 100% plot device.

_Going on a date with a vampire? That's okay, Alice knows nothing bad will happen!_

_Getting married? Worry not, Alice the "suddenly-a-wedding-organizer" is here!_

_About to get killed by vampire royalty? Don't worry, Alice can see what she can't see and therefore can find the vampire-human hybrid she's supposed to not be able to see, so that no one will die! Besides Irina, that is, but who cares about a character only ever mention in passing? Also, there's Siobhan, who for some reason, can make things — no matter how impossible — work out the way she wants them to!_

Alice and Siobhan. I hated them both, because they had it so easy. Life wasn't supposed to just "work out" like that.

But I guess that's why they didn't exist in real life. Some things were meant to exist only in fiction.

"Alice's" message came less than a minute later:

* * *

><p><strong>To: odile_me. com<strong>

**From: a. cullen_me. com**

**Subject: None**

**Message:_ I can't see you in my visions. WHAT ARE YOU?_**

* * *

><p><strong>To: <strong>a. cullen_me. com<strong>**

**From: odile_me. com**

**Subject: Laurel leaf_  
><em>**

**Message: _Patience, Tinkerbell. I'm a friend. But really, don't let Edward go to school tomorrow. There's a chance he'll do something he'd regret. I told you about his singer._**

* * *

><p>She didn't reply to that. I waited for minutes, an hour, and still nothing.<p>

Oh well. Maybe the Twi-hard got sleepy. It was a bit late.

**9:33 PM | 01/17/2005**

Jeez. The date really bothered me a lot. The year, specifically. _2005_. It was going to take a while for me to get used to not believing it.

I took a quick, warm shower in the bathroom next to Charlie's room, cursing myself when I ran to my room soaking wet in my bathrobe. It was _freezing_. Honestly, the lack of frostbite on my fingers and toes surprised me. I knew that Forks would be much colder than Phoenix but this was just absurd. I didn't know the North Pole moved to Forks.

I resolved myself to remember taking the clothes I'd change into with me when I showered. Put it on the sink or something, so I can get everything done in the bathroom. Better yet, I'd never shower. Ever. That idea sounded really good in my head. I'd stay cozy and dry in my warm cashmere sweater forever, B.O. be damned. I mean, really, how did the people in this place take their showers in this temperature? How did their skin not freeze and flake off like icicles? I just took a _quick_ and _warm_ shower, and my skin felt like I'd been skinny-dipping for ten hours with the penguins in Antarctica.

In a quick series of unbelievably clumsy moves, I got myself wrapped in fresh clothes. I decided that two sweaters were just about warm enough. Any more and I'd end up looking like a polar bear.

I looked in the mirror and grimaced. I looked like a dork.

Not that I was into fashion or anything. On the contrary. I was very much fashion-impaired. But even the fashion-impaired Bella Swan knew that two layers of oversized knitted wool sweaters was not nice to look at on a person.

I looked like a burrito with arms.

But I was toasty warm, so whatever.

My laptop _ding_'ed just then, and I hurriedly unfolded it and clicked on my inbox. It wasn't from the Alice Twi-hard.

* * *

><p><strong>To: odile_me. com<strong>

**From: CCullenMD_aol. com**

**Subject: _Curious_**

**Message: _Alice has showed me your emails. May I be so frank as to ask you who you are? And how you know so much?_**

* * *

><p>I snorted. I mean, it was an AOL email. <em>AOL<em>, for crissakes. This was supposed to be Carlisle Cullen! You don't use a free email provider when you're role-playing as Carlisle Cullen. It just wasn't done._  
><em>

So apparently, the Alice Twi-hard contacted this Carlisle Twi-hard (or maybe they were the same person), and now things were supposedly _rolling. _After all, I was a "stranger" that knew too much. _Ooh. Suspense._

Role-playing was, surprisingly, quite fun.

* * *

><p><strong>To: CCullenMD_aol. com<strong>

**From: odile_me. com**

**Subject: _I told you already_**

**Message: _I'm a friend, and I'm nobody. And for the "how" of it, well, I just know things. Such as your past, Carlisle Cullen. Does the the year 1663 ring any bells?_**

* * *

><p>I turned my laptop off then, figuring if I was enjoying pretending to be in Twilight so much, then I was in big trouble. One delusional person in the house was enough.<strong><br>**

I crawled to the bed, suddenly tired. When I closed my eyes, I remembered my dream about Edward Cullen and his soulful gaze. My dream was about Elijah.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, this chapter turned out to be a bit longer than the last one. Note that the email addresses look messed up THAT'S BECAUSE FF WON'T LET ME PUT THE "AT" SIGN (you know, the little "a" that morphs into an "e" squiggly thing)! I type it and the words beside it just disappear. So I used "_"s to replace them. Also, when I put a dot com without the space, it disappears too! FF better fix this little glitch, because email addresses don't look like "username_provider. com"! That's just retarded!**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter (even with the weird symbols I had to use for the email addresses)! Tell me what you think in your reviews!**

**Ciao!**


	5. Applebottom Hamsterfist

The very first thing I wanted to do when I opened my eyes, was sneeze my brain out. Seriously. Never had I had such a strong urge to sneeze before in my entire life. Like, I _had_ to get rid of my brain. By sneezing. Right now.

I sat up and let myself at it. I sneezed about five or ten times, and fell back to the bed in exhaustion. My plopping so violently on the bed probably stirred dust, and I went into another sneezing fit.

Charlie came rushing into my room in a panicked hurry. "Bella? What's going on? Are you—"

I let out one last sneeze-finale, one loud enough to be heard for _miles_, and looked up at Charlie with teary eyes and slightly less gray matter in my skull. "Good borning, Jarlie," I grabbed my head as a pounding headache began. "Gah. I bean _Dad._ By brain's kinda bessed ub."

Jesus _Christ_. Wow. Good morning.

I really should've vacuum-cleaned my room.

Charlie cast me a worried glance and placed a palm on my forehead. "Are you okay, Bells? You look a little sick."

I pondered that. I wasn't sick. It was just allergies, really. But who was I to deny Charlie's "get away free" card?

He looked so worried though. So I shook my head, sniffed, cleared my throat.

"I'm fine. Just allergies. Forgot to get rid of all the dust last night." Because I'd been too busy messing around with Twi-hards. So it seemed Twilight found a new way to mess with my life. Again.

Although, admittedly, it was my fault for letting it.

Charlie let out a hoarse huff, and said he'd do the vacuuming. "You just get ready for school, Bells," he added. "I'll get you some water."

Right. School. I totally forgot about that. Pretending to be in Twilight kind of put my mind off of things. But I lived in the real world. It was about time I got back to reality.

And reality included nosy journalists and bitchy Twilight enthusiasts and pushy cameramen. Every day.

Story of my life.

I grinned at Charlie. "You're joking, right? It's still dark out. And I'm fine now, Dad. It was really just the dust."

He frowned and left the room, rubbing his eyes and grumbling about teenagers and insomnia.

I opened my laptop and checked the time.

**5:03 AM | 01/18/2005**

I quickly checked my inbox. I hated how excited I was over _this_. I mean, _this_ was Twilight role-playing, for crissakes! Hadn't I always said I hated this stuff?

But when my eyes landed on the new messages from **CCullenMD_aol. com** (there were two) I couldn't deny the excitement I felt in my bones, the way my heartbeat quickened at the thought of this game of pretend.

The messages were about two hours apart. The older one came in at 10:30 PM and the next at 12:25 AM. I clicked on the older message first.

* * *

><p><strong>To: odile_me. com<strong>

**From:CCullenMD_aol. com**

**Subject: _Curiouser_**

**Message: **_It appears you know of my past. That is... intriguing, if not alarming. Outside of my coven, very few know about my... old life, for although I never did mind sharing my tale, I also never particularly enjoyed regaling others with it. Shall I assume you are one of us then, because of your knowledge? An old friend I had once met, perhaps? You must be someone I had been quite close to — for you to know the year I was turned — and yet as I ponder your possible identity, I cannot fathom whom among my friends you might be. _****

****_I would very much like for us to meet in person._****

* * *

><p><strong>To: odile_me. com<strong>

**From: CCullenMD_aol. com**

**Subject: None_  
><em>**

**Message: ****_**_You did not reply to my previous message. Perhaps I had been a bit too forward? If so, I apologize. I only want to know the identity of, and thank, the stranger who wishes to help Edward._**_**

* * *

><p>This was... interesting. A meet-up. Will it even happen in real life, though? I doubted it. He was still role-playing, after all.<p>

Unless **CCullenMD_aol. com** was another delusional guy. That would suck.

My headache long forgotten, I quickly typed a response.

* * *

><p><strong>To: CCullenMD_aol. com<strong>

**From: odile_me. com**

**Subject: None**

**Message: _I didn't mean to ignore your messages. It's just that I'd been preoccupied with... _**

* * *

><p>... with <em>sleeping, <em>I thought with a small laugh. Then I continued typing.

* * *

><p><strong><em>... certain things, so I hadn't been able to reply. I really meant what I said about Edward, though. He absolutely must <span>not<span> attend his Biology class today. It is imperative that he miss it, or there might be consequences. Irreparable consequences. In fact, it would be wise for him to just miss the day altogether. Don't ask me how I know that. I just do. On another note, I'm sorry, but we can't meet up. I can't tell you my identity either. I'm very private, and I would hate for the Volturi to find out about me. I hate those sanctimonious bastards._**

* * *

><p><strong>CCullenMD_aol. com<strong>'s reply came just a minute later.

* * *

><p><strong>To: odile_me. com<strong>

**From: CCullenMD_aol. com**

**Subject: None**

**Message: _You mean to say that the Volturi know nothing of your existence? _**

* * *

><p><strong>To: CCullenMD_aol. com<strong>

**From: odile_me. com**

**Subject: _Duh._**

**Message:**_** Of course they know nothing. If they knew about me, about what I can do, they'd bind me to them with Chelsea's power. Make me feel some dumb artificial contentment with Corin's. And if none of that works, they'd quarter me without so much as blinking an eye.**_

* * *

><p><strong>To: odile_me. com<strong>

**From: CCullenMD_aol. com**

**Subject: None**

**Message: _How come? What is it that makes you think so? Are you... gifted?_**

* * *

><p><strong>To: CCullenMD_aol. com<strong>

**From: odile_me. com**

**Subject: None**

**Message:**_** Wouldn't you want to know?**_

* * *

><p>I glanced at the mirror, and saw that I had a small, secretive smile on my face. A Mona Lisa smile.<p>

That was it, I guess. I can't deny it anymore.

Twilight role-playing was a guilty pleasure.

I closed my laptop. Sighed. I should stop this stupidity. I mean, Jesus, was I really enjoying _pretending_ that I was conversing with Carlisle Cullen? I was more screwed up that I'd thought.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet and mostly awkward event. Neither one of us were much for small talk. Besides, I was terrible with socializing, so I was fine with the silence. I guess I'd take Charlie's awkward silence over the constant "oh-my-gosh-are-you-really-Bella-Swan-like-the-one-in-Twilight" most people gave me.

I'd never been able to socialize normally. _Normal_ and I were never really on speaking terms. After all, I was _Bella Swan._ People just always went a little cuckoo when they talked to me, and not in a good way:

_"Hi. I'm Bella."_

_"Bella. Nice. Like Bella Swan, from Twilight?"_

_"Actually, that's exactly my name."_

_"What, Bella Swan? No way. Your name's really Bella Swan?"_

_"Er, yeah."_

_"That is so weird! I mean, what are the chances? Is your mom's name Renee?"_

_"Well... yes." _

_"That is so cool! It's like Twilight came to life! Did your mom name you after Bella Swan or something?"_

_"Uh, no, actually. I'm older than the Twilight books."_

_"Oh. My. Goodness! So you're really a Bella Swan! **The** Bella Swan! Have you met Edward Cullen yet? Why aren't you in Forks? I would so kill to have your life right now!"_

Yeah. That was my social life, in a nutshell. If there were eleven girls in the world, then I'd say that six of them would want to kill me out of spite (Because Twilight. Need I say more?), and four of them would envy me. I'd be the eleventh girl, obviously. Point is, there was no middle ground among the female population when it came to _Bella Swan_. If there was, I hadn't met her/them yet. So, assuming that this hypothetical _middle ground_ population didn't exist (Seeing before believing, right? And I most definitely had not _seen._), I was forever stuck between girls that wanted to kill me, and girls that wanted to _be_ me. Six psychos to four fan girls. Although, maybe the latter wouldn't envy me so much if they knew about the six other girls...

Charlie left first, off to the cop central that was his wife and family. After he left, I just sat in the living room, not knowing what to do with myself. The air in Forks gave the place a very laid back feeling, a rustic vibe I didn't really care for. I appreciated nature and the country, of course, but I was still a city girl.

Just like my laptop, I couldn't imagine myself fitting in here.

Wait. Who was I kidding? I'd never fit in _anywhere_, unless I changed my name to something much less conspicuous than Bella Swan. Something that sounded more... normal, compared to the name of the Twilight saga's world-renown heroine. Maybe something like Applebottom Hamsterfist.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. The temptation to check my inbox was just too great. It was almost a compulsion. I donned my jacket, took my truck's keys, and headed out into the rain.

Yeesh. It had been drizzling the whole time I'd been here. Did the rain ever let up in this place?

My waterproof boots sloshed on the wet soil as I made my way towards my truck — the famous Twilight Truck. At least it was nice and dry in the truck. The engine snapped to life when I turned the key, and I almost had a heart attack. This thing was so _loud._ One minute everything was quiet (save for the little white noise of the drizzle), then the next my eardrums were being sledgehammered by pure, unadulterated _chaos_. Oh well. At least the truck's engine worked.

The school wasn't too hard to find, though I'd never been there before. Not that it was such a great feat for me to find it — it was right along the main highway. I parked in front of the first building I saw, which had a sign over the door that said "FRONT OFFICE." No one else was parked there, which probably meant it was off limits, but then I didn't let that bother me overmuch. I was a new student. They wouldn't hold it against me.

I entered the building and fought the smile that my lips wanted to form. It was warm inside. Warmer than I'd dared to hope. I saw a counter, and walked up to it with uncertain steps. There were three desks behind the counter, but only one of them was manned. I approached the one person behind the counter. It was a large woman, red-haired, and she wore glasses.

She immediately looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Isabella Swan," I muttered, very much unwillingly. I saw the awareness and recognition light up her eyes. Great. I was expected, and a topic of a lot of gossip no doubt. Bella Swan, the one whose life is almost like the one in Twilight. Chief Swan's daughter. Stupid reporters and their Twi-hard cronies.

I should have expected this. I mean, this was _Forks._ I was technically standing where Twilight-Bella would have stood before. The thought made me shudder.

"Of course," the woman said, interrupting my reverie. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I gave her a smile that I was certain was not the tiniest bit convincing.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, hoping that not too many people paid attention to my truck's _Engine of Chaos._

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it. Hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around all day with it plastered to my face. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and took in a huge, calming breath. _I can do this, _I told myself, hoping it'll work like those weird Twilight mantras the kids back at Phoenix burned my brain with. I can do this. The reporters won't eat me. Not while I'm on campus, at least. Twi-hard students were a different matter—

I killed that thought. Killed it , burned it and bleached its ashes. I'd lived through this crap for seven years. So what if I'm finally in Forks and they might gobble me up whole? I'd claw my way out of their throats.

I wasn't Bella Swan. At least, I wasn't the Bella Swan that the world knew.

I was Applebottom Hamsterfist.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Not much happened in this chapter, I think. That kind of saddens me. But you can't force a story to quicken because that might just ruin it, so yeah. I'm going with that excuse.**

**And yes, okay, _fine_. Give it to me straight, don't hold back on that review. I know that Applebottom Hamsterfist isn't the most badass name there is, but real-Bella here is a nonconformist, so there you go. Also, aren't you excited to get to the part when it finally clicks for her that she's in the Twilight world?**

**Tell me what you think in your reviews!**


	6. Coup de Grâce

Meeting the real versions of two Twilight characters was, to say the least, absolutely _mortifying_.

Eric Yorkie was every bit the "overly helpful chess club type" boy portrayed in the books and the movies. And he apparently existed in real life, too. Talk about freaky. He even offered to give me a tour of the campus! He got the lines in Twilight so down pat when he talked to me, I was expecting a camera crew to jump up from the shadows and yell out, "Ha! Gotcha!" If it weren't for the confused look on his face when I laughed at his name, I would've slapped his face for pulling such a mean prank. And when I had Trig and Spanish I met — _surprise_ — Jessica Stanley. Freaking Jessica Stanley! Everything was so déjà-Twilight, it wasn't even funny anymore. Half the time I expected them to slap my back and say, "Just kidding, Bella! You know Eric Yorkie and Jessica Stanley don't exist in real life, you dunce!"

But they didn't slap my back. They didn't laugh. They acted like normal people, and that bothered me like nobody's business.

Because they were like me, for crissakes! Eric Yorkie! Jessica Stanley! Bella Swan! We were all real people whose names and lives were sort of mirrored in the Twilight saga (which had thousands, if not millions, of fans), and _they_ were perfectly normal people, which was just so _unfair_. You didn't get to be _normal _when you lived with Twilight fans hounding your every move for years. It just wasn't possible.

By the time the lunch bell rang, Jessica was pitter-pattering away, talking about teachers and classes as we walked to the cafeteria. I gave a mental sigh of relief. I'd thought she was going to do the whole "oh-my-gosh-you're-Bella-Swan-like-the-one-in-Twilight" thing, but it seemed she figured I wouldn't want to talk about _that_, so she chose not to bring it up, acted as if Twilight didn't even exist. It was very considerate of her. The total lack of Twilight stuff bothered me a bit though. I'd gotten used to people only ever talking about Twilight things with me. Real-Jessica talked as if teachers and school and gossip were all that there was to talk about. It was nice, but if I didn't know any better, I'd think she had no idea what Twilight was—

I shook my head to get rid of that thought. It was silly. Everyone knew Twilight. _Everyone_. And if there was a chance that real-Jessica hadn't known about it, then the worldwide Breaking Dawn II movie hype would've _forced_ her to know it. I mean, she was _Jessica Stanley,_ the real version of the Twilight bitch extraordinaire (second to Rosalie Hale, of course, but Rosalie didn't exist in real life. I checked.). It was a miracle that real-Jessica turned out to be _not_ bitchy. After all, she was bound to have had a rough life too, what with having lots of haters in the Twi-hard community.

Armed with that knowledge, I came to a realization that real-Jessica wasn't just _nice_, she was a freaking _saint_.

I braced myself when we reached the dreaded cafeteria. Cafeterias were always an area of nightmares for me, filled with people sledgehammering me with Twilight questions and rude Twilight remarks and — much worse than those — hateful stares.

I can withstand the Twilight questions and comments, but I've just about had it with the hateful stares.

Imagine my shock when I entered the cafeteria and was greeted by... silence.

There were stares, sure, but not more than I was comfortable with, and certainly less than what I was accustomed to. Also, none of them seemed to look at me with hate. More like curiosity — like the way kids looked at a new toy at _Toys R Us._

Which was decidedly weird, considering I was in Forks, Washington. The _Twilight town._ Twi-hards moved to this dreary town just for the sheer idiotic fan-girl pleasure of being in the town Twilight characters had supposedly lived in. I'd expected some kids to whip out their phone cams and take pictures of me, at the very least. _Look, it's that Bella Swan girl! She's finally in Forks! Must tweet about this!_

Expecting all _that, _and only getting _this,_ was disconcerting.

My eyes scanned all the tables in the cafeteria and I almost gasped out loud when I saw what I thought I would never see in a million years. I fought the urge to scream out and point at them — and fought really hard to keep the look of detached stoicism I'd mastered when I turned fifteen. Because if my suspicion was wrong (and I was very sure it wasn't), then I'd end up looking like a retard. If I was right, though. . .

No. No way. There was no way the Cullens existed in real life. It was impossible. I checked, damn it! I checked a million times! But they sure as hell were there, Cullens, the whole bunch of them. Looking beautiful as all get out, lithe and graceful as ballet dancers. "Rosalie" with her gorgeous face and silky blonde hair, "Jasper" with his intense expression and golden ringlet locks, "Emmett" with his brawny physique and smiling face, "Alice" with her petite size and spiky black hair, and... good Lord, "_Edward_."

He looked exactly like the Edward I'd seen in that weird dream I had before things went all crazy with the truck and Charlie's delusions and Eric and Jessica and _them_.

That thought made me blink in confusion.

How could someone I'd dreamed up come to life? Had I maybe seen his face before and stored the information in my subconscious so I can dream about it later? I doubted it. His face wasn't one that I — or anyone else, for that matter — could possibly forget. He was goddamn beautiful, like a vision of heaven in human form. Wait. Did I really just think he looked like an angel? I hated that. Never in my life had I liked anyone (besides Elijah, but he's different) because I didn't want to set myself up for disappointment, but here I was, going gaga over a stranger. What was_ wrong_ with me? Just one look at his face and my brain became mush.

Needless to say, I'd never seen him before (except in my weird dream, and that didn't count). I would have remembered that face.

"Bella?" Jessica's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Bella, you're... er, you're staring at them."

I snapped my mouth shut (I hadn't realized it was open) and glared at my feet as Jessica led me to the table where several of her friends were. My brain was paying just enough attention to notice the names she was rattling off: Lauren Mallory, Ashley Dowling, June Richardson, Angela Weber—

My head snapped up at that. There was a real Angela Weber?

Angela caught me gawking at her and extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Angela. You're Isabella, right?"

"Bella," I absently corrected and shook her hand. I was still in a state of disbelief. Just how many Twilight characters had real counterparts? And what's the deal with the pseudo-Cullens? I mean, they've got to be fake, right? I definitely would have found out about them if they were _really_ the Cullens. Twi-hards may have missed Eric Yorkie or Billy Black, but they couldn't have possibly missed _the Cullens._

Oops. I was staring at them again. This time "Jasper" stared at me, his expression seemingly confused.

With a frown I looked away, deciding that ignoring the "Cullens" was the way to go. It wasn't a very mature thing to do, since ignoring problems hardly got rid of them, but it was the most I could manage at the time. As for the disturbing lack of Twi-hards, I tried to ignore that too.

Dread filled my gut. I hadn't seen any Twi-hards or reporters or cameramen _at all_ since I left the house. I tried not to think about it but my mind was already going a mile a minute. What on earth was going on? Did Charlie instate a Twilight-ban or something? That made no sense; if he did, then there wouldn't be supermodel posers pretending to be the Cullens in the cafeteria right at this moment. And wasn't my dad delusional with this Twilight stuff?

There was that small voice again at the back of my head. This time it was much louder than before, and it came with an eerie sense of foreboding.

_There's something wrong,_ it said. _Something's very wrong here._

"So, Bella," Jessica began as soon as I got settled. "You were staring at the Cullens, huh? Mind telling me what that's all about?"

"The Cullens?" I asked. Saint Jessica just confirmed my suspicions, which made no sense whatsoever. If they were really the Cullens, how come I'd never heard of them before? They should be really famous, what with the crazy resemblance to their fictional counterparts. And why on earth would they live in Forks when Twilight existed? Were they _trying_ to ruin their own lives?

"Yeah. You know," Jessica made a small, vague gesture at their table's direction. "Georgeous, rich and snobbish? Cullens? That's them. Why were you staring at them like you were deciding if you wanted to talk to them or punch their faces in?"

All of a sudden, a loud booming laughter came from the table in question, and I turned to check who it was. I wasn't surprised to see it was "Emmett." I sent him a random glare and turned back to Jessica, who was staring at me, perplexed.

"Bella, did you just... give Emmett Cullen the evil eye?"

I frowned. I didn't know what to say to that without looking like a total idiot.

"I didn't," I muttered. "It's nothing."

"_Nothing_? It didn't look like nothing," she whispered, her confused tone gave way to suspicion. "It looked like a big _something_, actually."

I caught on to the direction of her thoughts, frowned. "Ew. No. I'm really not into jock types. Plus, he's obviously taken. By the blonde one, no doubt." I caught "Rosalie's" eyes and sent her a small nod. She nodded back, then smirked.

Huh. How weird. Did she hear me from this distance?

_What big ears you have, _the thought came unbidden, and I tamped down the insane urge to laugh. _Rosalie the wolf. _That's irony and a pun rolled into one.

I shook my head, looked at Jessica. "It's not about that anyway. It's not about anyone, really. I just," Should I really tell her this? "I just really hate Twilight."

She looked even more confused than before. "You hate the time between night and day?"

Gah! "Not that twilight, _the_ Twilight. The Twilight books."

"Oh!" Realization lit her eyes, but it didn't seem enough. It seemed somewhat lacking, like she didn't quite get the gravity of what I'd just said. "I haven't read them yet, sorry. Maybe I should look them up so I'll know what you're talking about, huh?" She gave me a conspiratorial wink, and it was all I could do to not look at her with total mortification. Was she _serious_? Did _Jessica Stanley_ really just tell me she didn't know about the Twilight saga?

I turned to Angela, asked her if she knew about the Twilight saga. She smiled, apologized and shook her head. "Never heard of it, sorry."

"You've got to be kidding me," I whispered under my breath. Everyone's suddenly named after Twilight characters in this place, and none of them knew about Twilight. What the hell was going on?

I rose from my seat, feeling all sorts of confusion and panic boil inside me. _Something's **wrong**,_ the small nagging voice at the back of my mind said. _Wrong_. Yeah, right. _Something's **messed up**_ was more like it. This was freaking way more than just _wrong_.

"Are you okay, Bella?" Angela asked.

No, I was most definitely_ not_ okay. "I'm _fine_," I replied, my tone coming out sharper than I'd intended.

Something was messed up about this whole thing, and I was afraid I was about to figure it out.

I suddenly remembered the cafeteria scene in Twilight, and how it happened in Twilight-Edward's point of view in Midnight Sun. He'd been trying to read Twilight-Bella's mind then.

I spun and gave him my biggest glare. He met my eyes and for a second he looked surprised, then confused, then frustrated.

Then it clicked.

Jesus. It was all true, wasn't it? My dad bought that truck because Twilight-Charlie bought it. Eric Yorkie was the first student to talk to me because that was how it happened in the book. Jessica invited me to have lunch with her friends because that was how the book went. And Angela, and Emmett, and Edward...

After it clicked, I had no idea why I hadn't noticed it all before. The small but significant differences.

"Oh my god," I whispered. Nobody knew about Twilight because it didn't exist here. Wherever "here" was, it wasn't the Forks I'd spent my summers in. This was Twilight-Forks. That was why Charlie had no idea what Twilight was, why he acted like Twilight-Charlie. He _was_ Twilight-Charlie. That was why I hadn't come across a single Twi-hard the whole time since I had that weird nap dream about Edward Cullen.

Jesus. Jesus _Christ_. I was_ in_ Twilight.

Which meant three things: (1) Charlie wasn't insane, (2) Jessica wasn't nice, she was still a bitch extraordinaire, and (3) there were vampires in the cafeteria. Freaking _vampires_. And one of them was Edward Cullen, the vampire to whom my blood would smell like _his own brand of heroin._

The world suddenly spun around me.

I turned to look at Alice even as my vision swam, tried to meet her dark eyes. When she met my gaze, I gave her the most baleful look I could muster, and said something that probably was my death sentence. "You stupid pixie. Odile warned you."

Before my vision went black, I thought I saw a glimpse of Alice heading towards me, a panicked expression on her face.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I probably still have typos on this one, but I felt bad about withholding this chapter for so long, so here you go.**

**Tell me what you think in your reviews!**

**Remember: REVIEWS ARE LOVE!**

**Ciao.**


	7. The Golden Mr Stearns

I was stalling, and I wasn't proud of it. The idea of facing the fact that I was inside a book — and the one I hated like nothing else, no less — was just about as appealing as the thought of jumping into a paper shredder and pressing "shred." So I kept my eyes closed, and hoped that I'd get to hear some reality show people whisper about how dumb I was for falling for their elaborately staged prank, which was what I desperately hoped this was.

The alternative was unthinkable.

I didn't hear anything except the soft humming of a fan. The quasi-silence filled me with dread.

"She's awake," I heard a harsh whisper to my right.

Oh. So I wasn't doing my sleep act very well. So much for refusing to face reality, or whatever messed up fever dream this was.

I opened my eyes... and immediately regretted it. I wished I'd kept my eyes shut. Forever.

"Hey!" the voice hissed at me, sounding annoyed. "Stop that. Ignoring us won't make us disappear."

"Oh, but can't you just see how much she wishes it would?" Another voice asked, all sardonic humor and sarcasm. "It's quite adorable, really. Very child-like."

I groaned in annoyance. It was clear that they were trying to intimidate me. Fat chance of _that_ happening, though. I've lived through bitches that would make these two cry. Who'd be scared of two vampire females who _might_ end your life any moment, when you've survived evil psycho human girls who were actively _trying_ to ruin your life just because of a silly book? At least with vampires, it's a quick and easy death.

"Prom queen and cheerleading captain stereotypes, here to harass the unfashionable new girl stereotype," I muttered, fighting a shiver as I opened my eyes and stared at them. "I'm surprised. I thought you guys _hate _high school."

I sat up on the bed, my eyes still gritty from being closed for so long but managing to focus on my surroundings. I was in the school clinic, it seemed like. I couldn't see much of anything — just that I was just on a white, bland-looking bed that was surrounded by dark green curtains — but I'd seen more than my fair share of my old high school's clinic to know a medical facility when I saw one. Or _smelled_ one, more like. The stench of rubbing alcohol was so strong it was beginning to offend my nose. The curtains were drawn closed, giving me some semblance of privacy — a privacy that two female vampires now invaded.

After my study of my surroundings, my eyes finally fell on them — on Alice Cullen and Rosalie Hale.

Jesus Christ. They looked even prettier up close, their faces so lacking in imperfections that it was just plain ridiculous. Where were the eyes that were either too close together or too far apart that normal people had? Where were the chapped lips? Where were the—

"Are you _Odile_?" Alice asked, interrupting my reverie. I blinked. For a second I dumbly wondered why a _magazine cover_ was talking to me, then I snapped out of it, frowned. I stared at her and pulled my head back a little, tried to see her in a more objective light. She was tiny, which I had already expected. After all, the _Twilight_ books couldn't emphasize enough just how _tiny_ Alice Cullen was. It was almost as if Stephenie Meyer had a height complex and decided to dish it all out on Alice's character. I mean, she all but called Alice a dwarf. Alice had sharp almond-shaped eyes, which was an unexpected detail. And her face reminded me of how an elf should look like, so at least the _pixie_ reference was spot-on.

How was I supposed to answer her question? And why on earth did I let on that I knew what they were? I never thought I'd be the type to dig my own grave, but the words were already out of my mouth before I had a chance of stopping. Were these vampires going to kill me? Would they decide to dispose of me if I gave them the answer that they were looking for? Or if I _didn't_?

"Answer the question, little girl," Rosalie growled, sounding ten times more menacing than Alice. "Are you _Odile_?"

I was suddenly filled with pure, undiluted fear.

It was funny how you could find a situation humorous at one moment, and terrifying the next.

"No," I whispered. I wasn't _Odile_. _Odile_ was a girl who didn't think this was even remotely possible. _Odile_ was oblivious to the fact that she was actually emailing real vampires. Obviously, _Odile_ was an idiot.

And I was trying my level best to _not_ be her. So in a sense, I wasn't lying. At least, it didn't feel like I was.

I was not _Odile_. Not really.

"She's telling the truth," an unfamiliar voice spoke up from behind the thick curtains. A blonde guy — no, _vampire_ — let himself in, a look of intense concentration on his pale face. Jasper. "She's not _Odile_."

I gaped at him, dumbstruck. How did he— oh! _Empath_! He could feel my emotions. I wondered about that, about which emotions he was receiving from me now. My guess was that he wasn't getting much.

Besides pure terror, that is.

I never thought I'd see the day I'd be so _thankful_ to be so terrified. But since Jasper missed my deceit because of the waves of fear I was letting out — thus rendering me able to live for a little while longer — I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Jasper cocked his head at me and drilled me with a suspicious stare. Wait. Did he just get a read on my emotions? What was I feeling just now? I concentrated, tried to remember what I was feeling, frowned when I came up with nothing. Argh!

"But she's connected to _Odile_," he drawled, his voice laced with a threat as he continued to stare me down. I shuddered. Mean bitches I can tolerate, and bullies I can ignore, but Jasper wasn't a mean bitch or a bully. It was all I can do to keep myself from digging a hole and hiding there until he disappeared. "From what I'm getting from her, it seems like a very close connection."

Rosalie gave him an incredulous glare that seemed very much to me like a _No shit, Sherlock! Did you figure that out when she mentioned Odile's name in the cafeteria? _kind of glare. I would have laughed, if I wasn't so close to soiling my pants with fear.

They got into a silent conversation then, gave each other meaningful stares and quick glances and nods, and I thought I was going to have to sit through this whole thing for _hours_, but thankfully Alice decided to break that silence. She sighed, turned to me and asked, "What do you know about my family, Isabella?"

_Just Bella, please,_ I wanted to correct her, but I had a feeling my little comment wouldn't go over well. She didn't seem to look very friendly at the moment, or all that willing to call me by my preferred nickname, if the annoyed expression on her face was any indication.

"_Isabella_," Alice hissed, enunciating each syllable. "I'll ask you again: What do you know about my family?"

Honestly? _Every little thing_. But I figured I'd used up all my luck after my fainting stunt in the cafeteria, so I settled with, "A lot."

"She knows more than she's saying," Jasper supplied, his eyes darting between Rosalie and Alice, before settling on me. "She's feeling secretive," he told them. "Now she's surprised. Then confused. And now she's feeling annoyed."

I glared at him. What gave him the right to just discuss how I'm feeling now, without my permission? If I needed to have my feelings dissected, I would have made an appointment with a _therapist_. Not an _emotional-rapist_. Jesus!

Rosalie's face was carefully blank. "I see," she told Jasper. Then she turned to me and asked, "How did you come across that knowledge?"

_By reading a world-renown book series about an angst-ridden teenage romance,_ I was tempted to say. _And by watching a couple of blockbuster movies based off them, too!_

"Odile," I easily lied. _Odile_ was now my code word for my world. The world I came from. The world where the Twilight series existed in book form. "She told me about you. About what you are, what you can do, and what you..." I hesitated, "... what you _have_ to do to survive."

Jasper inched closer, a predatory leer on his face. "Oh? What is it that we _have_ to do to survive, exactly?"

I frowned.

Okay. I get that I was supposed to be terrified and all. I mean, I was surrounded by _vampires_, for crissakes, and truly Jasper Whitlock was just about as scary as it got when it came to vampires (besides the Volturi and the Romanians), but this was getting annoying. He was obviously milking the whole predator-prey thing.

And I thought Edward was the melodramatic one.

Fine. Jasper wanted the truth, so I was going to give it to him without the circumlocutory B.S. that his kind seemed to enjoy so much. I mean, why were vampires always beating around the bush? Why did they have to be all "what do you know" and "do you know what we are"? Why can't they just be like "you may or may not know what we are, but since you're connected to a suspicious character, can we just kill you and get this whole thing over with"? There's so much to be said about directness.

"You blend in with humans," I said, looking Jasper in the eye. "You follow the rule. The _only_ rule — keeping the secret. Also, you drink animal blood. Not that you've been doing a very good job on that one, what with your frequent snacking on humans." I grinned, feeling smug upon seeing the look of total mortification on Jasper's face. _There. That comprehensive enough for you, Jasper?_

Alice's hand suddenly wrapped around my throat, and I gasped. Her cold touch was gentle, but only an idiot would miss the threat in it, the promise of death by her hand. Her eyes were hard as she glared at me. "How do you know that?" she demanded. "_How_?"

Rosalie placed a hand on Alice's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. The utter hilarity of the whole thing amazed me. Since when was Alice the one to fly off the handle? And since when did Rosalie-frosty-knickers-Hale care about a human girl who knew too much? She wasn't this nice to Twilight-Bella.

Wait. _I_ was Twilight-Bella now. Just thinking about what this could all mean, both for myself and the real Twilight-Bella, made my head hurt.

_Must not have existential crisis,_ I told myself. _Must not have existential crisis._

Just as a I was about to wonder if the two female vampires in front of me switched personalities, Rosalie whispered audibly, "Not now, Alice. The humans know we're here with her."

Gee, thanks so much for the compassion, Rosabitch.

Alice, however, listened to her. She let me go and stepped back, rubbed her face as if my very existence was the bane of hers. I silently thought about that. Alice said in the email that she couldn't see me in her visions. Was that why she was on a short fuse right now? Was I trumping her magical juju?

The thought made me smile.

"She's feeling amused about something," Jasper alerted them.

"Why are you amused? What are you thinking? Is it about Odile?" Rosalie asked, leaning closer and going full-on Rosalie with the vampiric charm. "Tell us, Isabella."

Gah! Pushy much? First the feelings and now the thoughts? Were they going to pry my skull open to check my hypothalamus next? Yeesh. How did Twilight-Bella stand it when they kept asking her about her thoughts and feelings?

"Don't you guys have class?" I asked, because I couldn't very well tell them that I was glad that Alice's gift didn't work on me. That would lead to a dangerous conversation, one I wasn't willing to get into yet, if _ever_. "Why are you even here?"

"You fainted in the cafeteria," Jasper said, as if that explained anything.

"I know that," I snapped, feeling a blush come up my face. I wasn't a blushing person, but I just couldn't help imagining how stupid I must've looked when I just dropped dead like that. First time I ever fainted in my entire life, and it just _had_ to be in the middle of a crowded room. Only _I_ had luck that rotten.

"Emmett carried you here," Alice muttered, still rubbing her face as if to wake herself up. I found myself wanting to do the same. "He's in class now. The rest of us are here to watch over you."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "All _three_ of you?" Great. I fainted in the cafeteria, was carried by a macho vampire, and at the moment three individuals were looking after me. Now the whole school would think I was an invalid.

"_Four_, really," I heard a guy's deep voice come from behind the curtains. His voice sounded vaguely familiar. For a second I freaked out. I mean, what if that was Edward behind that curtain? Was he going to attack me? Drain me? I didn't dare hope that the other vampires beside me would try to stop him, given what I they thought I knew about their kind — which was, regardless of my not telling them _exactly_ how much I knew, still entirely _too much_. I was a liability. And with the way my blood would undoubtedly "sing" to Edward (whatever that means), I was a scrumptious liability.

_Goodbye, cruel world,_ I guess.

I was seconds away from hyperventilating when another blonde guy strode in. I noted the pale skin of his hand and the golden crown of hair on his head, and I was like, Y_ep, that's totally a vampire, and totally not Edward. Whew!_

And there was only one other blonde vampire male in Forks besides Jasper.

I sighed.

"Carlisle," I muttered, relieved. "I thought you were —" My eyes zeroed in on his face, and I couldn't help but gasp.

Oh my God! Holy Jesus in a biscuit! He looked exactly like—

"Elijah?"

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><p><strong>AN: I feel like doing an evil laugh. MWAHAHAHAHA. **

**Okay, I'm done.**

**Did you expect this? Or did I actually get to pull the rug on you? In my defense, though, I did say something like "the _golden_ Mr. Stearns" in the second chapter. I wanted to drop more hints but being obvious is such a boring way to execute this, so there you go.**

**Tell me what you think in your reviews! I can't say this enough: REVIEWS ARE LOVE!**


	8. Stay

_"Elijah?"_

"I beg your pardon?" He asked, using Elijah's voice. I inched closer, tried to get a better look at his face. Jesus Christ. It really _was_ Elijah's face. My fingers twitched, wanting to touch him and confirm if he was real.

"Eli," I smiled at him. "You have no idea how much I've missed y—"

"I am afraid you have had me mistaken for someone else," he said, his brows scrunched up and his mouth pulled into a frown. "My name is not Elijah. It's Carlisle. Carlisle Cullen."

"Carlisle Cullen," I repeated. I stared at his eyes and noticed that his irises were gold, not the cerulean blue of Elijah's eyes.

My little bubble of delusion suddenly popped.

Holy _shiit_ake mushrooms. Carlisle Cullen. Carlisle-freaking-Cullen. This was _Carlisle Cullen_, not Elijah Stearns. _Why_ did Carlisle look like Elijah? Was this some kind of sick joke from the Twilight gods? I didn't remember Stephenie Meyer putting "dimpled cheeks" and "three moles under his eyes" in her description of Carlisle Cullen.

Carlisle Cullen didn't look at all like his actor Peter Facinelli. He looked like _Elijah Stearns._ Looked enough like him to be his vampire twin.

_Christ almighty._

Everything was just too much. I rose from the bed, grabbed my bag and walked out of the clinic without a backward glance, ignored the protests behind me as I trudged down the hallway. The school nurse wasn't even around, and I suspected Dr. Carlisle Cullen's presence had something to do with that. _She's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now,_ I remembered Twilight-Bella's line in the book.

I frowned, tried to ignore the fact that the Cullens could have killed me in that clinic and nobody would have known or suspected them. Rosalie was being careful, but I knew they could have just said Carlisle picked them up from from school and I went home alone, set the whole thing up so it would seem I was mauled by a bear or gutted by a mountain lion. That was how they did things. And animal attacks were so common in this area, nobody would have suspected a thing.

I placed a hand on my chest and felt my heart's crazy rhythm. Holy mother of heart attacks. My heart was going insane.

As I walked I waited to see if one of them would drag me back, and sighed in relief when I realized that none of them followed me. I would have kicked and punched and screamed at them if they tried to put me back in there with _him, _broken bones be damned.

_Carlisle Cullen looks like Elijah, _the thought suddenly popped up, unbidden.

I tried not to think about _that_, tried not to think about how the man I loved had a vampire doppelgänger.

I inhaled, compartmentalized my thoughts, and pushed all the ones related to Carlisle Cullen and Elijah Stearns in one mental safe, slammed it shut and locked it tight, sealed the edges so nothing would leak out. There was _no way _I was going to have a nervous breakdown because of this, in public or in private. I'd already filled my quota of Elijah-related breakdowns for the year.

The hallway was, thankfully, littered with a few people. Less chance of the Cullens kidnapping me and killing me off somewhere. I cruised past the classrooms, heard the muted lectures behind closed doors, quickly wondered if I should attend the dreaded Biology-class-almost-turned-mass-murder, then decided not to when I realized that _hey, I _wasn't_ Twilight-Bella. _I wouldn't make that same mistake. No way. I wouldn't go in a room that had Edward Cullen in it even if I'd been decked in a hazmat suit. I wasn't clueless. I wasn't naïve.

Also, I wasn't suicidal.

I marched through the rain and to my truck, threw my bag on the back seat and just sat behind the steering wheel, my mind churning a million thoughts at once. I wanted to go home. To my real home.

But I had no idea how to leave this Twilight world. I didn't even know what brought me here in the first place. Was I stuck here forever? Would my real parents even notice I was gone? Where the heck was the actual Twilight-Bella? Because I _definitely_ wasn't her.

I felt the tears sting their way out of my eyes, felt them trace hot paths down my cheeks. Angrily, I wiped my face with my sleeve. I hated it when I cried out of frustration. It never helped.

I took a deep breath, and felt my mind slowly clear up. I was in the Twilight world. I had just revealed to a bunch of secretive vampires that I knew their deep, dark secret. My life was messed up (again), but that didn't mean I can't save it. This time, I knew what to expect. I knew what needed to be done to avoid danger. All the necessary stuff was just in my brain, in the Twilight information I'd unknowingly memorized due to my having lived through the Twilight craze.

I had to leave. The longer I stayed here, alone in the school parking lot, the easier it was for one of the Cullens to show up and snap my neck. But I couldn't just go home and wait for them to assassinate me.

I needed a plan.

And just as I realized I needed one, a plan already formed in my head.

I started my truck and decided to head to La Push.

* * *

><p>I looked around, took in the dense forests on both sides of the road, and sighed. I can't deny it anymore. I was lost.<p>

I cursed. I hissed every curse word I knew — enough curse words to make a sailor blush. I reached for my cell phone, then frowned when I noticed that I was out of network coverage. Of course. My subscription probably didn't even apply in this universe. I was in Twilight-Forks now. Twilight-Forks in 2005. It made sense now that my laptop was being all buggy and glitchy with the date. As far as it was concerned, it really was 2005. And in 2005 in Twilight-Forks, Bella Swan didn't have a cell phone subscription. Jesus. I wasn't even sure if there were phones like mine yet. 2005 — phones with colored screens were probably the vogue right now, not multitasking superphones like my iPhone. What would Twilight people do if they saw my futuristic smartphone? Or worse, my high-tech laptop?

I didn't remember much about the technology of 2005. I was just ten that time. Ten-year-olds didn't give a rat's petunia about phones and computers, especially when they had reporters and Twi-hards to worry about.

I fought the urge to throw my phone out the window. I hated this. Hated that even if I knew _everything_ about this world, I still had no idea how to survive it. It wasn't as easy as in fan fiction, where fans supposedly find themselves inside Twilight and decide to spice things up or replace Twilight-Bella and "unknowingly" seduce Edward Cullen. Besides, in fan fiction, those "fans" were either in spirit form or can return to their own worlds any time they wanted. I can't do any of that crap. I can't just drop in and out of this place. I was _human_ — as human as I ever was, and as human as Twilight-Bella was. I couldn't risk my life just to shit around with the Cullens, as tempting as it seemed. I didn't even _want_ to be here in the first place. I didn't want to help the Cullens with their issues or fall in love with Edward Cullen. I just wanted out.

I scrolled through my phone and absently stared at the screen, until my eyes fell on an app that I desperately hoped I can use.

The GPS.

They had GPS devices in 2005, right? I just hoped that my app worked under the same concept.

I tried it, and thank God, it _worked_.

In a few minutes I found civilization, a small log cabin with a large man chopping wood just beside it. I parked the truck and pulled my jacket's hood up over my head, walked through the relentless drizzle and approached the man.

"Excuse me, sir," I began, my voice a little scratchy, "Can you tell me how to get to Billy Black's house?"

The man looked up from his work. I noticed that he looked Native American. I figured he was probably Quileute. The Quileutes were the only Native Americans in these parts, or so Stephenie Meyer said in Twilight. He stared at me with hard eyes. "Who's asking?"

Huh. What a jerk. "Isabella Swan," I answered, not knowing why he needed to know my name. What if I told him my name was Applebottom Hamsterfist? Would he refuse to tell me where Billy lived? I could have been Billy's bastard lovechild, for all he knew, and he'd be turning me away because of a stupid name.

He gave me the fisheye. "Chief Swan's daughter?"

I shrugged, then nodded. Okay, so he knew Charlie. The whole Billy's-bastard-lovechild angle just flew out the window. "I just want to drop by, thank Billy for the truck," I gestured to the death trap behind me.

His expression softened at that. "I _knew_ that truck looked familiar," he grinned, revealing a perfect set of pearly whites. "You got it from Billy?"

"My dad did," I supplied. "He bought it from Billy real cheap, and gave it to me as a welcome-to-Forks present."

"And you actually like it? That old thing?"

Okay, low blow. What was it about guys that made them think girls only went for shiny two-seater mini cars? "I like it," I said vehemently. I would've _loved_ it if it didn't resemble the Twilight-truck so much, but then it _was_ the Twilight-truck, so there was that. "And it was very thoughtful of Ch... my _dad_, to give it to me."

He chuckled, willfully ignoring my annoyance. "I always knew Chief Swan was a softie."

I had to smile at that. "Don't you _ever_ let him hear you say that. You'll go to jail for slander."

He burst into peals of laughter. "You're a crazy kid," he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I like you. I'm Sam, by the way," he offered his hand. "Sam Uley."

I blinked. Sam Uley? _Sam Uley_?

_The_ Sam Uley?

I stared at him dumbly. Sam Uley was supposed to be this _übermensch_ character, pure alpha male and and brass and all that. This Sam Uley just seemed so... nice.

I took his hand, tried not to flinch when I noticed that he was running a couple of degrees higher than normal. He seemed to watch for my reaction.

"Do you want me to draw a map?" He asked, a smile still on his face.

"Map?"

"To Billy's," he said with a small laugh. "You said you want to drop by Billy's place. Do you want me to draw a map? His house is a little deep into the Rez."

Oh. Right. Billy Black. But why go through Billy to talk to Sam Uley when Sam Uley was already in front of me?

I sighed. Honesty was probably the way to go. "Okay, I lied. I'm not going to Billy's place to thank him for the truck."

His expression didn't change. He was still smiling. "I figured. Seems like a long way to drive just to thank someone, when telephones exist."

"Right. Actually, you're the reason I wanted to talk to Billy."

"Me?"

I nodded. "Yes. I wanted to talk to you."

"You wanted to talk to me," he repeated, seemingly confused. After a few seconds he met my gaze. "Why?"

I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. "I want to tell you something, but I need you to stay right there and not come closer. And I need you to remain calm."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Why do I _need_ to remain calm? What are you going to tell me?"

I shook my head. "It's nothing bad, I swear. I just really need some distance before I say it, and your word that you'll... well, _stay_. Stay _put _and stay _calm_, I mean," I quickly added, hoping he didn't get offended. I didn't mean to address him like he were a dog.

He remained silent for a few seconds.

"Sam?"

He nodded. "Okay. I'll _stay_," he said with a mocking smile. "Right here. I won't move a muscle. Just tell me what it is you want to tell me already."

I took a deep breath, and took twenty steps away from him, knowing fully well that he'd still hear me from this distance.

"Well?" He half-yelled. "What is it?"

Okay, here goes nothing.

"I have a vampire problem."

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><p><strong>AN: Here's a belated birthday greeting to Misty again, a guest reviewer! Sorry about the seventh chapter being late for your birthday. I did try to hurry with the editing, so maybe that counts for something. At least, I hope it does.**

**So, I noticed that some of you didn't really like the previous chapter, what with the almost total lack of real-Bella's mindfuckery with the Cullens (LOL, I love that term!). Some critiqued the chapter and noted that real-Bella's personality seemed weak. Those reviews are very much appreciated, thank you. Constructive criticism goes a long way, and I'm not lying when I say that I appreciate all kinds of feedback. I hope this chapter answers some questions by those reviewers and satisfies some of the outrage some of you might have felt.**

**In my opinion, real-Bella didn't seem weak. The whole situation just surprised the hell out of her. Remember, she's real. Or at least, I'm trying to make her as real as possible. You could say you'd deal with it with the full sarcasm and wit of fictional heroines, but then that's just talk. If I were real-Bella, I think I'd freak a little. I'd probably be entitled to a brief freak-out moment.**

**Anyway, tell me what you think in your reviews! Reviews are love (well, sometimes they're constructive criticism, but that's just tough love)!**

**Ciao.**


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